


The Reichenbach Fraud

by cheekbonesofbenny



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-02-18
Updated: 2014-02-22
Packaged: 2018-01-13 00:03:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 3,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1205425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cheekbonesofbenny/pseuds/cheekbonesofbenny
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock Holmes fakes his death, but John doesn't know that, he thinks that all of this is real.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Suicide of a fake genius. Goodbye, John

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you timflavouredcurry for helping me come up with the title :3

He knew it was going to hurt John, god fucking damn it he did. But still Sherlock stood there on that rooftop, a tear coming to his eye as he heard the pain in John's voice. He said it, he said what he needed to say. This better go to plan, this could not fuck up. 

"Goodbye, John."

He dropped his phone and then stepped towards the edge, letting himself fall over the edge, he plumeted towards that cold, wet, concrete floor. It was a relief when he felt that safety mat beneath him rather than...well, he'd probably been dead before he'd have felt anything otherwise. Concentrate, Sherlock! He had to work quickly, John had to believe he was dead.

Phase two, playing dead. Sherlock lay down on that cold, wet floor. Placing the squash ball under his armpit to stop his pulse he waited for the homeless network to do the rest.

John bought it, the pain in his voice was agonising, but Sherlock didn't react. He couldn't. He needed John to believe all of this was real. He needed his John safe.

It worked and now John was to believe that Sherlock was dead for two years. So Sherlock left England with the help of his brother and spent the next twenty four months taking down Moriarty's web.

***

John sat in his chair at Baker Street, staring at the chair that once belonged to his best friend Sherlock Holmes. It was the day after the funeral and things really weren't getting better. 

Everytime John saw that chemistry set he felt a pang of guilt. What could he have done to help Sherlock? To stop him from doing this? He should have seen the signs. How could he have been so blind?!

"People see, but they do not observe," Sherlock's voice rang in John's head.

"Fuck!" John cursed, quickly getting to his feet. Too quickly in fact, as the blood rushed to his head. "Fuck!" He cursed again.

"Everything alright, dear?" Mrs Hudson asked in her usual sweet tone, though there was a touch of concern there too.

John inhaled shakily. "Yes," he lied, his eyes stinging with tears, though he was hoping that didn't show too much. The last thing he needed was for everyone to know how badly this hurt.

"It'll be alright, dear. It always is," she said before leaving him alone again.

***

John lost track of how many times he tried to top himself in those following months. He knew it was stupid, but some how he couldn't help himself. Suicide seemed like the best option and he was getting more and more determined to succeed.

Scars now covered his arms where self harm seemed like the next best option. There was even a mark on his neck where he'd tried to hang himself on more than one occasion. Though someone always stopped him.

John was somewhat grateful for being stopped. Something, just something was going to happen and soon all his pain would be over.

***

Almost two years on and John had now moved away from Baker Street. He felt a lot happier and that was good. He and Mike were meeting up on Friday's for a drink, that was nice. And the self harm had stopped, mostly.

John was helping out the yard with cases every now and again. All in all things seemed pretty good right now. He'd even started dating again, not that he was doing a very good job of it, but still. It made his life a bit more worth living.

"Hey, John," Greg smiled, having decided to visit one afternoon. "I've found something I think you might like."

"Oh yeah, what is it?" John asked, a small smile playing at his lips.

"You know that birthday video Sherlock made?" 

John's smile faded. "Yes?" God what was all this about? He'd moved on, Jesus Christ!

"I-I found the outtakes, thought you might like to give it a watch. You know, remember happier times?"

John hesitated. "I...okay. Put it on," he nodded.

The video started and John watched, it was hard at first, but then he felt himself smiling because of that brilliant man.

"Sorry I can't be there right now, John. But I'll be there very soon," Sherlock smiled one of his big genuine smiles and the video ended.

Just as the video ended the door bell rang. It couldn't be, could it?


	2. Life without Sherlock

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's two years on and John says he's moved on. But has he really?

John went down the stairs to the front door of his flat. Though he knew he shouldn't be disappointed when he didn't see Sherlock standing there it still hurt a lot. He forced a smile at Mrs Hudson.

"John, are you alright? I've not so much as had a phone call for weeks," she said, clearly a little upset at his lack of communication.

"Yes, I'm fine. Honestly," John sighed, inviting her in for a cuppa. "I just...miss him, that's all," he mumbled, putting the kettle on to boil.

"I know, John. We all do, but you can't just mope around like this. He wouldn't want that."

"Who knows what the bloody hell he would have wanted?" John pretty much snapped. "Sorry, just sorry." He took a shaky breath. "Oh, Jesus. If I could have stopped it. Why didn't I see the signs?! I should have seen it! I could have stopped it!" He yelled, getting rather upset with himself.

"John, calm down," Mrs Hudson sighed.

"I-I'm so sorry," John groaned, pretty embarrassed at himself for his outburst. He closed his eyes for a moment. "Do you think that there is even the slightest possibility that he might not be dead? I mean I know I watched him fall and everything, but...no, I'm being ridiculous ignore me. Just, ignore me," he huffed, making the tea.

***

John tried it once and only once. He wanted to know exactly what buzz it had given Sherlock when he was alive. Hell, John didn't care how it affected him or how fucked up it might make him, he really didn't give a shit. He had to try it right now.

John had done his research and had quickly found a dealer. He bought a wrap of cocaine and went back to his flat.

Fuck! Oh, god. Oh god. What had he done? He probably wouldn't do this again, but it felt strangely good. 

John wasn't stupid. He'd calculated the dosage exactly, so it was unlikely he'd die of an overdose.

***

Greg frowned. "You got high last night."

"Did not," John snorted. "I'm just a bit tired."

Greg shook his head. "I'm not stupid, John."

John sighed. "Fine..."

"Why?"

"I just...Sherlock and he used to do it and..."

"You really miss him that much?"

"Yes, I really do."

"Anyone would think you were in love with him."

John snorted. "No."

Greg raised an eyebrow. "Sure?"

"Positive."

Greg shook his head, he wasn't convinced. 

"I'm not and I never was in love with him!"

"Sure you weren't."

"I'm not gay!"

"You would have followed him off of that roof."

"No. Stop it now."

"It's true, John. You know it is."

"No, shut up. I mean it. Stop it now. Greg, please."

Greg just laughed and shook his head. "I must go back to work now, John."

"Yeah, great. Thanks for visiting," John smirked.

***

"You could have stepped in at any point you know," Sherlock growled.

"Mm, too dangerous," Mycroft smirked.

"We both know you just don't like getting your hands dirty!"

"Now, now brother dear. You're safe and well aren't you?"

"I would have been even better if I didn't have to go through half of that shit," Sherlock huffed, buttoning up his white shirt.

"I stepped in at just the right time, Sherlock. I assure you."

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "Shut up or I will punch you."

"So, you're going to reveal to John that you're not dead?" Mycroft asked.

"Yes, I am. And then it'll be just the two of us against the rest of the world," Sherlock said.

"How are you going to go about it?" Mycroft asked.

"Oh, I don't know. I was thinking I might jump out of a cake," Sherlock laughed.

"He's moved on you know."

"What do you mean?"

"He's got a new life. He doesn't even live at Baker Street anymore."

Sherlock tensed up a bit at that. How could John just move on like that. He huffed to himself.

"He still has the same dinner reservation with Molly tonight, yes?"

Mycroft nodded.

"Good," Sherlock said and waltzed out of his brothers office.


	3. The return of the genius

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock Holmes is about to return from the dead. How will John react?

"Thanks for coming here on such short notice," John smiled.

"Not at all," Molly smiled. "Is this a date?"

"No, no. Not unless you want it to be. I'm happy with it being just as friends."

"I-yes, good. Friends," Molly nodded.

John smiled at her nervously and nodded.

"So how's life?" Molly asked.

"Oh, yeah. It's good, yeah. Been helping Greg out with a few cases and just trying to keep myself busy, you know?" John smiled. "What about you?"

"Oh, yeah. Life's good. The usual really, hanging around with dead bodies and all that," Molly laughed.

John laughed with her.

At that very moment a waiter came over and as John looked up to order his eyes went wide and that smile disappeared. 

"Oh. My. God."

"In short. Not dead."

John's eyes went dark.

"John?" Molly asked, but when she looked up she realized what had gotten that reaction.

John suddenly launched himself at Sherlock and the entire restaurant turned around to find John on top of Sherlock.

Molly managed to pull John off with the help of some of the restaurant staff.

***

"I don't want to know how. I want to know why," John said, voice dangerous.

Sherlock dabbed his bloody nose with a napkin he'd picked up at the resurant. "To protect you," he said simply.

"From what exactly?"

"Moriarty. It was the only way to bring him down. He was going to have you killed and Mrs Hudson and Lestrade. I couldn't let that happen."

John's jaw tightened. "And why are you so calm in all of this?" He asked, turning to Molly.

"Oh, I um..."

"She knew John. She helped me do it."

John looked at the pair of them in disbelief and then shook his head.

"Who else knew?"

"My brother, my parents, the homeless network, maybe a few others."

"So all these people knew and you didn't think to tell me?!"

"It's complicated, John. I had to protect you. You couldn't know."

"So if I had killed myself because I didn't know you were alive, that would have been okay?!"

"You tried to kill yourself?"

"Yes, Sherlock. Several times!"

Sherlock stared at John for a moment, a look of sheer horror on his face.

"John, I am so sorry. Truly sorry. I never expected it to affect you so badly."

John closed his eyes and took a shaky breath. He then rubbed his eyes.

"I visited your gravestone, asked you to stop being dead."

"I know, I was there."

"You heard everything?"

Sherlock nodded. "Mycroft says you're not at Baker Street anymore."

John shook his head. "I moved on, Sherlock."

"You should move back. It'll be too quiet and lonely with you."

"I can't just move back just like that."

"Why not?"

"I-I don't know. Wouldn't it feel odd? Just going back to how things used to be?"

Sherlock shrugged. "Perhaps. But I'd be happier if you were there so I could...protect you as it were."


	4. John's little secret

It had taken quite a bit of persuading, but after four weeks Sherlock had finally persuaded John to move back in. Well, normal-ish. John was now dating Molly and had been for about three weeks. God, how Sherlock hated it. The kissing, the dates, the John refusing to come out and help with cases, the Molly staying over on the weekends. It made Sherlock feel sick. That was Sherlock's John and Molly was taking John away from him.

***  
It was a good four months before any decent cases came up. Life seemed to be returning to normal and Sherlock was pleased about that.

After dragging John out of a bonfire on the fifth of November and almost getting exploded by a bomb underneath parliament on the same night Sherlock was finally getting back to his former self.

***

"How nice of you to drop by, Lestrade whilst my flatmate is currently out shagging the women that you've been so desperately in love with ever since you set eyes on her," Sherlock said, a smirk playing at his lips as he sprawled out on the sofa.

Greg frowned. "I am not in love with her."

"Yes you are. You should have seen yourself eyeing her up that Christmas."

"Says you who's always staring at John's arse."

"I do not!"

Greg smirked. "Getting defensive, Sherlock?"

"Look, even if I did like him. Which I don't. He's in love with Molly and he seems happy enough," Sherlock muttered, sipping his tea. "John's not gay anyway."

"You're certain of that?"

"No, but that's what he wants me to believe, so I'll carry on believing it."

"You know he tried drugs whilst you were away, don't you?"

"Yes, cocaine. And might I add, he's still doing it. As well as the self harm that none of you morons seem to notice. It becomes quite addictive after a while.

"You're not serious?"

"I'm very serious. He's destroying himself and you're all too thick to even notice he's doing it."

"You could have done something about it!"

"He avoids the topic at all costs so I've stopped bothering."

"You know, for a genius, Sherlock you really are quite stupid. He needs you. He needs your help and instead you're willing to sit back and watch him destroy himself.

***

"Why didn't you tell me, John? I could have helped you!" Molly said distraught when she found a used syringe in John's bedroom one night.

John cursed internally, he must have missed that one. "Molly, I..."

"No, John! I won't watch you destroy yourself like this! I thought you loved me!"

"I do love you, Molly."

She took one last look at his dispairing face before grabbing her bag and leaving the flat.


	5. John in denial

Sherlock and John sat in their arm chairs staring each other for about an hour before either spoke.

"This is your fault," John hissed.

"My fault? How is it my fault?" Sherlock asked, puzzled.

"If we had never met..." John said, shaking his head.

Sherlock frowned. "That's a bit harsh," he muttered, rather hurt. "I thought you were my friend."

"Yeah, I thought you were mine. But then you go and throw yourself off of that fucking hospital!"

"I had to, to keep you safe!"

"Safe from what?"

"James Moriarty."

They stared at each other for another few minutes after that. Then Sherlock found himself to suddenly have John in his lap.

Sherlock raised an eyebrow. "Where is this going?"

"Shut up," John muttered, pressing his lips to Sherlock's.

Sherlock was surprised, but upon blinking he realized that this wasn't real, this had been his imagination. He was very disappointed.

"Sorry, did you say something? I zoned out."

John just rolled his eyes. "Doesn't matter, Sherlock."

"Right, okay. So, are you and Molly still together?"

"I don't know."

"How can you not know? You must know."

"She didn't say, but she did seem very pissed off."

"About?"

"You know what about, Sherlock. I know you know what I've been up to since you 'died'."

"Yes. All I want to know is why?"

"Because I missed you."

"Oh, well, good. I missed you, too."

"You have something to say."

"Mm, as do you."

"Me?"

"I'm aware of your feelings towards me, John."

"I'm not gay!"

"No one said you were."

"You just did!"

"No, I simply addressed the possibility of you being bisexual."

John shook his head and left the flat.

Mrs Hudson knocked a few minutes later. "You two had another domestic?" she asked.

"No, just a disagreement," Sherlock huffed, getting to his feet. 

"Where are you going?"

"Out. I need to clear my head."


	6. Sherlock's fantasy

John wrapped his arms around Sherlock's waist, pulling him closer and pressing a soft kiss to those cupid bow lips.

"Sherlock Holmes, you're such a gorgeous man," John breathed, resting his head against Sherlock's forehead.

"You should see yourself," Sherlock whispered, kissing John's jaw.

"I'm nothing compared to you," John said, voice quiet.

He started to unbutton Sherlock's shirt, slowly and teasingly.

Sherlock groaned. "John, you're such a fucking tease."

John grinned. "You're enjoying it," he purred, lowering his head slightly to kiss Sherlock's neck.

Sherlock craned his neck to give John more room to work, moaning as the other man bit and sucked at his neck, creating a lovebite on that delicate pale skin.

Sherlock gasped, placing a hand on the mark. 

"I'm going to have a job covering that up."

"Oh yes," John grinned, extremely satisfied with his handy work.

Sherlock grinned too, but gasped again when he felt himself pushed up against the wall, shirt falling off his shoulders and onto the floor.

"I'm gonna have you," John purred, kissing Sherlock firmly again.

"Yes, yes! God, yes!" Sherlock moaned.

The doorbell rang, he blinked but it didn't seem to register just now.

"Take me, god please take me, John. I've wanted this for so long now," Sherlock gasped.

The doorbell rang again and Sherlock finally came to his senses, cock in hand.

"God, damn it!" He cursed loudly, he hadn't even come yet.

Sherlock quickly finished off, but this wasn't as satisfactory as it could have been. Actually it had made him feel worse than he had been feeling. He could never have John Watson in this way and that really bloody hurt.

"Yes?" Sherlock huffed when he opened the door. "Oh, John. Forget your keys?"

"Yeah, something like that," John shrugged. "A little busy were we?" He asked, noting the red flush of Sherlock's face.

"I-uh, I was a little. But it doesn't matter," Sherlock mumbled, just a tiny bit embarrassed.

***

"So, Molly still mad at you?" Sherlock asked over a cup of tea.

John shrugged. "Dunno. She hasn't spoken to me for a few days."

"Oh," Sherlock said. "I'm sorry."

"No you're not sorry. You're never bloody sorry."

Sherlock sat there in silence for a moment, unsure of what to respond to that.

"You weren't right for each other anyway," he said, voice calm, shrugging his shoulders.

"How the fuck would you know, Sherlock? You know nothing about love," John hissed.

"How would you know?" Sherlock asked, voice still remarkably calm.

"You've never had a bloody girlfriend," John responded. "Or boyfriend."

"Again, how would you know? You never knew me when I was younger," Sherlock smirked, getting to his feet.

"Where are you going?"

"Bart's, I need to use their lab."

"What for?"

"A case actually. You can come too if you so wish to."

"Do you want me to come with you?"

Sherlock shrugged. "The company would be nice I suppose, but I'll leave that up to you."

"Fine, I'll come," John decided. "I need to talk to Molly."

"Good, come along now, John," Sherlock said and quickly left the flat, coat flowing behind him.

John shook his head and sighed, following Sherlock.


End file.
